is satchel on the floor and she, surprised that no further punishment
followed her open rebellion, rushed away to her room, dribbling taffy as
she ran.

"Oh, dear, Mrs. Vane's rule doesn't work at all," she moaned, nursing
her blistered fingers and smarting foot, heedless of the molasses
trickling down the front of her dress. "I never remember to count ten,
and I suppose if I did get that far, I would let the hateful words fly
after them. It is just like me. That is what comes of being a Catt! If I
only had a different name maybe it would be easier; but with a whole cat
name, how is anyone going to keep from scratching?"

The hot tears came, and for a long time she lay sobbing into the fat
pillow which had seen so many floods of this kind that it had grown very
much accustomed to it.

She heard the door open and shut and her father's footsteps died away in
the distance. He had gone without another word to her; but then this was
nothing unusual. He never said good-by to anyone when he left home--that
is, he had never done so but once. When he had started on his last trip,
he had waved his hand to her, and called, "Good-by, Tabitha. Be a good
girl." She had been startled at the unexpected words, and little thrills
of joy had crept through her heart every time she thought of them. They
were one of the hoarded treasures in her memory book, and she had hoped
he would always remember to wave a farewell when he went away again. Now
she had made him angry. Well, he had made her angry, too. She didn't
intend to spill the candy; he ought to know that; but he had struck her.
She was twelve years old now and this was the first licking. She had
dreaded it all her life; and was just beginning to think she had grown
beyond the age of whippings when the dreadful punishment had befallen
her. No, it didn't hurt much, the blows were not heavy enough for that,
but the ignominy of it!

Why couldn't her father be like Carrie's? When he had waved his hand at
her, she had thought maybe in time he might become like Mr. Carson, and
now he had punished her with the licking that had threatened her ever
since she could remember. She hated him!

"But I was impudent," she told herself as her fierce anger abated
somewhat. "I needn't have said anything about his hat. Maybe then he
wouldn't have struck me at all. Perhaps if I had said I was sorry and
had cleaned up his hat again, he would have waved good-by to me.
Perhaps--_just_ perhaps he might h